The Admiral
by SheenWinning
Summary: Banished from his own country for his crimes, Hans Westergard looks to live his life out in peace. But a war begins at sea; Prince Eric is looking for a Rear Admiral, and Hans is one of the few capable. How will he adjust to his new life? Especially when he is dispatched to defend a certain Kingdom in a Fjord... Eventual Helsa.
1. Chapter 1

**So, as most of you probably don't know, I'm a huge Hans fan. That being said, I'll keep going with his character till after his death. For some reason I also like Helsa…so we know that this story is gonna eventually turn into something like that. **

**Anyways, I like the navy. My dad was in the navy as a senior chief and also worked for a three star admiral. So I like the idea of putting Hans' redemption through the Navy of another country. Other than that, enjoy the story, and make sure to leave a review or favorite or subscription, whichever suits your needs.**

* * *

Creeks from the wood on the ship, the current of the waves rocking the structure back and forth; the common man or woman would generally vomit spontaneously on a prisoner vessel such as the one the red haired prince was riding, but to him it's where he grew used to it, and especially on a _Prisoner _vessel, for now he believed it's where he belonged. The youngest of a family of nobles, royalty, presiding over the city, and kingdom, of the Southern Isles; and as the titles proclaims, it's one of the southernmost kingdoms in the known world.

His memory flashed through his mind; the fjord, the ice and snow, the princess and her beautiful sister, the Snow Queen of Arendelle as they called her. A woman with such a remarkable supernatural power, and his own words had brought her to her knees, his own lies. He imagined it, all that power that was soon to be his, just a slice of his sword away from it. The throne could have been his…

But it was all a flop, a failure, for him, for his dignity. Now it was left in the hands of its own royal blood line, nearly inexperienced they were, but…so was he. But all of that didn't matter anymore; it will never matter anymore, now that he will face his judgment.

He knew his father, the father that never cared for him, the King of the Southern Isles; just exactly he would do to the young Prince that disgraced his nation. He had to be fair though…hold a trial, yet biased as most of a monarchy's trials. It would be him vs. the Southern Isles on behalf of Arendelle. Even if he did have a fair shot, how would he justify his own selfish actions? He had no answer; he did what he did because he felt like he must, for his own sake of relevance.

His mother was even worse, treating his as though he were a burden in her life…a burden in a nice comfortable life of riches and power. She was usually the one to criticize him, to throw insults at him and taunt him. He remembers those dreadful words he said to the dying princess of Arendelle when she needed him the most.

_Oh Anna, if only there was someone out there who loved you. _The words he had uttered in a show of complete evil, tearing her precious little heart in two…figuratively of course. Those words originated from the dark past of his; the drive of his character revolves around those words. When he was little, it was something his mother had said to him…

_Oh Hans, if only there was someone out there who loved you. _His mother said, taking hold of his chin so softly, yet with an evil smirk on her face. The young boy looked up at her, eyes becoming glossy and watery.

_...M…Mom? _

With those words, she began his spiral downward to depravity. Everything that everyone knew about him always had something way worse than that. The story he told the sweet, innocent young Princess of Arendelle was watered down fit to suit what she thinks she needs. If he told her the whole truth, she would probably have cried in front of him.

His other twelve brothers, most of which he said ignored him, actually didn't. Most of the time, they would carry out beatings on him, hitting him across the head with sticks, metal plates, batons even. They would usually gang up on him, four or five at a time, and beat him till he was black and blue, or even bleeding. They said it was all out of the fun of it, because he was the youngest, because he was the mistake. The oldest brother, Frederick, named after his father the King, was the heir to the throne of the Southern Isles, and he never worked a day in his life because of that. He felt entitled to everything, and was always the worst snob. Most of the younger brothers always looked up to him and followed his word; and he was the one to commonly order Hans' beatings.

The second oldest brother, Franz, was a different story. He was the only one to show Hans some compassion, and was usually the one to save him from trouble, whether it is from his other brothers or from suicide. It was because of Franz that he went on to do what he did; his brother always encouraged him to reach his goals and take what he needed, and to never let anyone stand in my way. Hans wasn't sure if overthrowing the Queen of Arendelle was Franz's idea of reaching goals.

Franz Westergard was a Southern Isles Naval Rear Admiral, and helped get Hans to walk the path he was going. Of course, his parents never gave him anything but a room and some clothes, but Franz was the one to use their treasury to help put Hans through school, eventually leading him to become a part of the S.I. Navy, sailing for a couple of years with Franz in his early teenage years and eventually attending Naval Officer's school where he came out as the youngest Officer to graduate, qualifying him for Rear Admiral…just like his brother.

Franz was more of a father than the King or Queen ever was…but even that wasn't enough. Even with all the compassion and support that his second oldest brother gave, his family still corrupted him so young; and his mother's words…

_If only there was someone out there who loved you…_

But to this day none of that will matter, for today he has returned home, as judgment seeks him…as he seeks judgment.


	2. Chapter 2

**I know these first few chapters are short, but I'm just trying to draw attention to them for now. They'll get longer after a while, maybe 2,000 words each. **

* * *

"Get up," a guard said. Prince Hans lay on his side in a cell, the floor littered with hay to sleep on. As he pushed himself up with his cuffed hands, some of the straw from the hay had stuck onto his jacket. He got up on his feet as he heard the familiar click of the lock on the iron, and the screech of the gate swinging open. "Follow me." The guard turned out, and Hans followed, taking a glimpse at two other guards on the either side of him, holding up muskets with bayonets on the very end of them.

He was to be escorted straight away to the palace dungeon, where he would await his trial.

The light of the sun pierced through the hatch opening to the deck, Hans squinting as he stepped out. He took a look around at the sight, smelling the air, hearing the bells, feeling the sun. It was his home capitol of the Southern Isles. Much like the village around the castle was Arendelle's capitol, the city surrounding the palace was his.

In the very distance he could see the palace resting upon a higher piece of land, surrounded by an inner wall. Then to the outside of it was the vast array of buildings connecting to each other, the city life teeming.

A guard behind Hans had to push him lightly with the mid of his musket to keep him moving; and so they stepped down from the wooden prisoner ship and onto the docks.

There were some gasps, and shocked silence had fallen over some of the people who had occupied the docks, they noticing the prince in shackles. He had to ignore them, as the guards kept him moving until they eventually stopped in front of a carriage. The carriage wasn't royal; it was of course built with iron bars around it, much like his cell aboard the ship.

The guard that had taken point had stopped and stood at attention for a man in his formal Prince's uniform, burgundy hair much like Hans' but curly instead of straight. His facial features were relatable to Hans, but just enough to tell the difference between the two. It was one of his brothers, Johann; no doubt the King sent him to receive the disgrace.

Suddenly the guard saluted the brother of the Prince and stood off to the side, Johann approaching Hans with a smirk.

"Brother," he sighed, his hands resting behind his back. Johann was one of the brothers to constantly beat him up as a child. "Just what on God's green earth were you hoping to accomplish?" Hans didn't say anything, he didn't even look at him; he just kept his eyes pointed to the ground in shame. Johann scoffed, "you probably should've just followed Franz's footsteps instead of attempting to fraternize with the Princess and the Queen of Arendelle." Again Hans didn't say anything, he had nothing to justify. "Oh Hans, you could've been a great Admiral, and actually make yourself useful for once," he mocked, then turned and paced slowly back and forth. "But now what do we have? A **worsened **reputation, a **worsened **trade relation with Arendelle, a **worsened **looking family…"

_As if the Royal Westergard family isn't bad enough…_Hans thought. Johann rambled on, Hans not paying much attention as he thought to himself.

"…Notice how everything is now **worsened**!?" Johann lifted his voice, putting his face right up to Hans'. "Are you listening to me?!" He slapped Hans across the face, Hans' head jerking to the force. "Huh?!"

The shackled prince had to resist the urge to spit in his face. The curly haired prince stepped away from him, turning his back to him. "Worthless." And he raised his hand up, walking away. This signaled the guards around the carriage to approach Hans and grabbed him roughly, throwing him into the iron bars.

A whistle rang from someone's mouth, and the carriage began moving, Hans sitting inside crisscross, ignoring the attention of the common folk.


	3. Chapter 3: The Trial and Flogging

Hans found himself in the darkness of the dungeon, seating himself again on a stone hard and cold floor. Again, his wrists were chained together and had barely any vision but what the candle light had showed. On the other side of the iron-wooden door, he heard voices trading words. Hans sat up, looking closely at the door, trying to hear who it was. Suddenly, the iron lock had clicked, and like the brig on board the prisoner ship, the cell door screeched open.

In came another Prince, his hair straight like his, but it was a shade of dark, like his father. He appeared to look much older, however, almost eleven or twelve years after Hans, and his face held thick stubble.

"Franz?" Hans letting out the first words he uttered since returning. His older brother briskly walked over to him; through the darkness, Hans could see that he was upset, but not angry, yet crestfallen. He suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, ignoring the metal chains pushing up against his chest. Hans' face tightened, as he nearly choked out tears.

"Hans," the compassionate older brother said, pulling away for the moment to get a good look at him. "What were you thinking?! Do you know what father would do to you!? What Frederick, Kurt, Johann…"

"I know-I know…" Hans interrupted, looking down. "They got to me, Franz; nothing you could have done would've stopped them…" Tears began to roll down Hans' cheeks, and Franz took him into another tight hug. "I would never be able to make this right, Franz…"

"Don't say that," Franz said, stroking the back of his hair. "Everyone deserves a second chance." Hans cried into Franz's shoulder for some time, up until he was able to calm down to just sniffles. Hans would've never cried if it was seeing the whole of Arendelle and the Southern Isles turn against him, if it was his other eleven brothers or his parents shaming him…no, they weren't his parents. But Franz? The older brother that took care of him, that looked out for him, that gave him everything, shared with him everything, stood by him, and was more of a father than the King ever was? To face him down, the one who gave him such opportunities, that taught him the wrongs and rights of life, the one who held him through and loved him like no other? Hans felt like he betrayed him, that he threw away everything that Franz ever gave him in exchange for the corruption that his whole other family plagued him with. He couldn't bare seeing him there, looking down at him in utter shame; yet he still showed compassion, that it didn't matter what he did.

Hans could never ask for his forgiveness, for at this point, he knew that his brother already forgave him, and that he didn't deserve it. But he knew Franz doesn't care if he deserves sympathy or not, he forgives by default if it was his little brother.

"I'll talk to Father," Franz said, releasing his hold on him. "If I don't convince him otherwise, he would have you publically executed!" Hans sniffed.

"You would do that?" He said, and then nodded. "Thank you, I could never ask for a better friend."

It seems that the royal sisters of Arendelle were right; family love was powerful, and he realized that he and Franz were just like them, only brothers.

"I care about you too much, Hans," Franz said. "I need to see you safe."

Eventually the trial day came, and there he stood before the court, his parents and his family. He looked off to the seating on the side, where the spectators were. They were cut off from the place where the Prince's were. He saw all their faces, looking at him in shame and disgust, but on the very end was Franz, looking at him wide eyed.

"…that we hereby find you guilty on the charges of treason." The judge of their court said, standing in front of his parents' thrones. The spectators all booed the shackled prince, throwing names at him, calling him an animal. "It is now the king who decides Prince Hans' punishment."

The king had on his crown, decorated in medals with black hair and a fancy beard. He raised his hand, and seconds later the entirety of the room had calmed. Slowly he retracted his hand back to his arm rest and looked down at Hans solemnly. Hans looked at his feet, not wanting to look his father in the eyes as he awaited his judgment.

"I am ever so…disgraced…to have called this boy my blood," The king started.

_You never did _Hans thought.

"And I view no reason to hold back whichever my intentions on punishing you are…" There was silence for the seconds that fell over them. "But…" Those words, _but. _What was the king going to impose? "I was approached by another son of mine, asking on your behalf for forgiveness," The king looked straight ahead at the colorful glass windows on the walls at the very end of the crowded room. "My son is a very persuasive speaker, as it seems to run with us…and we have agreed, ever so reluctantly, to spare your life, but taking away your dignity, your honor, your grace…" The king looked down at him, fire seemed to erupt in his eyes. "There is so much I could belittle you from, so much more I can take away…but I kept my word to the trusted son on mine that I would spare you through the sentence of **banishment**…with a proper **flogging**…"

Hans couldn't believe it; his brother had convinced the King to absolve him of the public death penalty and instead would send him away to never return to the Southern Isles. But the flogging…to be whipped in front of the masses, to be dehumanized…he was used to it.

* * *

In the very town center, they had replaced the gallows with a wooden post. Hans was stripped down to just his pants, being jerked and yanked by his bound wrists by a trotting horse with a guard mounted. Behind him were two other guards who had pointed their muskets at him, authorized to poke at him with their bayonets should he move too slow. The masses of peasants and people on either side of the lane would yell at him, throw garbage at him, sticks and stones. He had received an abrasion near his temple and was bleeding where one fat woman threw a rock at him.

The guard dismounted and dragged Hans to the post, tying the rope around it so that he could not move and his back exposed. Another guard, a heavy mustache on him, and snapped his whip onto the ground once, just the sheer sound of it making Hans jump.

There was a terrible pause, letting all the insults and other projectiles settle in. Then the guard threw the end of his whip at his back once. A snap waved out, a sharp sting in Hans' back, and he flinched. Blood began to draw, dripping down his back the more the whip relentlessly tore at his surface with stinging painful strikes. More snaps, more stings, and Hans began to yelp at each helplessly. He felt the warm liquid of his blood begin to ooze down to his pants, staining in. More whips, snaps, and stings shot out. He yelped, screamed in pain at each one as the spectators gazed and shouted taunts in his direction.

When they guard was down, the back of his neck and almost everything down was completely covered in blood and torn skin. So painful, the stinging…it was even worse when the breeze would come by.

Then he remembered the painful feeling of frozen ice and near frost bite, being in Arendelle during their eternal winter. For what he has done, it felt as through the Snow Queen herself was punishing him by ripping at his back with icicles.

But…he deserved it though.


	4. Chapter 4: A Formal Apology

**Well, it looks like my stats are doing way better for this story than the last one I had out. Keep it coming and don't forget to review. **

* * *

Shots rang out, cannon shots from the starboard of a fourth rate wooden ship. The heavy metal spheres that were thrown out of them flew towards a smaller derelict wooden ship somewhere farther off in the water. Most of the cannon fire had torn through parts of the deck, the masts, and hull.

A lucky shot had pushed through all the solids and landed itself on the pile of gunpowder barrels. With the impact, the gunpowder ignited, releasing a large explosion to tear apart the ship in two. Debris went flying and the main mast had fallen over, splashing into the water. The two remaining parts of the ship had tipped down and were beginning to sink.

On the fourth rate, the crew threw their hats up and cheered, jumping around and singing songs in celebration, for they had successfully completed their combat exercise.

A young black haired man who had manned a cannon on the main deck leaned himself up against the barrel, smiling at the wreckage. Suddenly, a big scruffy dog came up next to him, its nails tapping on the ground as it barked at him. The look on the dogs face made it seem happy, his tongue hanging out as he jumped on its hind legs. The young man shook his hand through the dog's scruffy hair, and looked back out to the water.

Above the noise, however, someone had cleared their throat right next to him. The young man turned to see someone much older than him, white hair and put up into a pony-tail, and a pipe in his left hand, small scroll in his right. The old man held the scroll out to him, his wrinkly face drooping.

"A messenger pigeon came, I believe it's from the Vice Admiral," the old man said. The young gunner took the small scroll and unrolled it between his fingers, looking down at it and squinting. For a brief moment, there was silence as he read and the old man huffed some smoke.

Quickly, the young man looked back up at him, crumpling the paper.

"You have got to be kidding me."

* * *

Off of a large royal ship came a familiar woman, surrounded by her personal guard as they escorted her onto the deck. She was dressed in her royal dress, black and blue with elegant patterns on it, her whitish-blonde hair braided into a bun and a crown resting on top of it.

The deck had been cleared for her arrival, as it was expected. The two guards in front of her, wielding muskets and stern expressions, had stepped to either side of her. In her vision, at the very end of the docks was a carriage awaiting her, along with an older looking Prince with his guard alongside the carriage.

When the Prince, dressed in the Prince's attire, decorated with medals, had seen her, he smiled. When she approached, she returned the smile in hopes of a light atmosphere.

"Your Majesty," the Prince said, bowing. "Might I say that my family and all of the Southern Isles is humbled to have you in our presence. Allow me to introduce myself…" the Prince said, lightly taking hold of her gloved hand. "I am Prince Johann of the Southern Isles." He bent down and kissed the back of her hand.

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Elsa said. Johann looked back up at her, not taking his hand off of hers.

"And might I add, your grace, that you look even more stunning in person than from what I have heard," he kissed the back of her hand yet again. He's obviously a smooth talker, and from the practice Elsa has had, she doesn't really know how to converse with smooth talkers.

"Uhm…I am flattered…Prince Johann," Elsa stuttered nervously, Prince Johann taking note of that.

"Oh, my apologies," he said, retracting his hand back behind him, yet keeping the same smirk of his. "I have greeted a lot of nobles before and as it appears, I am coming off too comfortable and forward." There was a quick moment of silence from Elsa as she stared at his smirking face. "But allow us to put this behind us; shall we be off?" He said, lifting his hand toward the carriage.

"Please," Elsa answered.

* * *

It was later that night in the royal palace of the Southern Isles. Elsa couldn't believe how large the palace was, compared to her castle in Arendelle. Prince Johann had said that the family had organized a dinner with the Westergard family in the dining hall.

The room was teeming with servants and family members, most of them boys. The only females in the room were the Queen, herself, and several of the servants. To her, they seemed like the type of family to have a very disorganized conflict at the table, but since she was there, it was like they were being forced to sit still like children. All the brothers, clearly above twenty, were sitting side by side at the rectangular table, stretching all the way to her side, where the flattering Prince Johann was.

It was clear that the Prince was interested in her, but she wasn't looking for a husband…at least not now.

Elsa sat awkwardly, staring down at her steak and steamed vegetables on her plate. Suddenly, the King cleared his throat.

"Your Majesty," he called to her. Elsa looked up at him, straightening herself out and lifting her eyebrows. "I would like to discuss the issue at hand."

"Yes, King Frederick," Elsa acknowledged.

"Well," the King started. "On behalf of all my family, I would like to formally apologize for the arrogant behavior of my youngest son, Hans…" Elsa looked around, knowing that he wasn't present, that the seat he usually sits in had been unoccupied. She also looked to each of the brothers, most of them holding their gazes to her, except one. There was one with black hair who held his head low, looking crestfallen.

_Who was this Prince? _

"He was tried and convicted of Treason," The king continued. "I saw to it that he received the punishment he deserved for dishonoring both Arendelle and the Southern Isles." Elsa had to ask the question.

"What happened to him?"

"Well…" The King rubbed the back of his neck. "We were set to publicly execute him," Elsa's face grew grim. "But I was convinced by another son of mine to spare his life. So I ended up humiliating him instead, flogging him in public and banishing him from the Kingdom for the world to see his pathetic life. However, I am quite surprised that you rejected the offer of choosing his punishment yourself."

Sometime before they sent Hans' prison ship off, King Frederick had proposed that Elsa and her sister, Anna, preside over the trial so that they may choose his punishment. An execution? Elsa didn't like the fact that someone would be publically executed in the name of justice, nevertheless in the name of Arendelle.

On the other hand, she cringed at the idea of him being flogged. She guessed pain is the punishment in the Southern Isles.

"With respect, your majesty," Elsa said. "I left that choice up to you. I rejected because I do not wish to hold grudges; I desire peace over all. And I am glad that you decided to spare him, to give him a chance to redeem himself; however, it would be hard to forgive him personally, especially for what he did to my sister. I believe that I may never really forgive him at all…"

"Oh, your majesty," the Queen piped in. "You say that as if he is ever going to return." The Queen smiled, and laughed a bit. Elsa held a questioning look.

"What?"

"Hans was a…how should I say this," The Queen looked up, tapping her chin, "a burden." Elsa sat back in her chair, listening on to the Queen. "We never wanted to have him, he just came along. The truth is, we are happier now that he's gone than we even were having him around…" a slam on the table rang out. Elsa and the others darted their heads in the direction of the noise to see the black haired prince had risen out of his seat, his face coated in anger. The Prince turned, and without a word, he stormed out of the dining hall. An awkward silence lingered over them a few seconds after he left, before the Queen's laughing broke it.

"Oh, don't worry about Prince Franz your majesty," she said. "He and Hans were…rather close. I don't even know what he saw in that **mistake**."

Elsa looked in the direction that the angry Prince ran off to, her face holding a hint of sadness. She couldn't believe it, the way that their own parents were talking about him…were they always like this towards Hans?


	5. Chapter 5: The Senior Chief's Orders

The Vice Admirals office, decked out with models and displays of military awards in glass cases and such. The middle of the room was occupied by a desk, a lamp next to it, ink and quill and a scroll of paper being scribbled on by the three star Admiral, middle age taking hold of his features.

The door opened and closed quickly, in walking the young man who manned the cannon on the fourth rate during their combat exercises in the past week. This time he wore a formal uniform, one that a naval officer would wear, more specifically a chief.

The Vice Admiral looked up from his work, his expression tightening.

"Ahh," He let out, going back down to his writing. "Prince Eric, how glad I am of you to see me."

"Vice Admiral Briggs," the Prince acknowledged.

"You know, since you are a Prince of the royal family of Daneland, I would go out of my way to bow to your grace," Vice Admiral Briggs said, multitasking and scribbling words down onto his paper. "But seeing as you are at my command in the Royal Danish Navy, and you are here to discuss official Danish Naval business, I won't bow to you or address you as my Prince." Eric just stood there, looking straight ahead of him at the Danish flag mounted on the back wall. "But I will address you by your rank and last name, which is Senior Chief Petty Officer Milbourne."

"That's fine by me, sir," Eric smirked, putting his hands behind his back.

"I am glad that we can agree on that…" The Vice Admiral quickly signed the bottom of the paper and cast it aside, pulling another one out and dipping his quill in the inkwell. "As you may have read my pigeons letter, Rear Admiral Gates and his squadron had gone missing near the Kydonian Islands; his messages have never returned."

"So we lost contact with their squadron?" Eric asked. The Vice Admiral looked up at him with a ridiculous expression on his face, then back down to his paper.

"Way to point out the obvious, Chief…" There was a moment of silence; the only sound resonating was Briggs' quill on the paper.

"So what are we planning on doing about it, sir?"

"What would you do, Senior Chief?" Eric thought for a moment.

"Uhh…I would… send out one of the reserves to investigate the disappearance…"

"Well," Briggs said, putting the quill back into the inkwell and lacing his fingers together on the table. "That's a predictable response; and you know that I don't like predictable." The Admiral squinted at him with a half-smile. Eric looked back up in front of him to the Danish flag again. "This actually isn't the first time things like this have happened, it just never happened to a naval squadron before." Briggs stood out of his seat and made his way to the window, which overlooked the coastline. "Reports of Trade Ships going missing, especially those that go through to Corona and Arendelle; few that have gone through the tropical islands of Kydonia have ever returned. The sailors aboard say that there are Pirates all over the region; and if an entire squadron of Royal ships under Rear Admiral Gates have gone missing, then I suspect that these aren't you average pirates." Eric came beside him to the window.

"What was the squadron's objective going to the Kydonian Islands?" Eric asked.

"To ensure that the trade route from Daneland to Corona and Arendelle were safe, and to deal with whatever problem that they have on those islands." The Vice Admiral answered simply. "My superiors and I both agree that there may be a serious problem on our hands."

"What is going to happen?"

"Well as we speak, tax money of hardworking Danish citizens is being put to good use for defense spending," Briggs said, turning himself back and striding towards his desk. "We're building new ships to replace Admiral Gates' squadron, a couple of first rates, fourth, fifth, and sixth rates, along with an Admiral's Flagship." Briggs sat back down and went back to his paper. "Earlier, several months back, my superiors and I were approached by a Rear Admiral in the Navy of the Southern Isles. A royal, like you."

"What does the Southern Isles want?"

"His name was Franz Westergard; he told me about his youngest brother and what happened to him. Apparently he went to Arendelle when their new Queen was being Coronated and he tried to kill both her and the Princess." Eric winced playfully.

"Harsh," he laughed.

"So he has been tried and banished, and currently has come to Daneland."

"Hope he doesn't try to kill my family instead," Eric said, and continued to chuckle.

"Well, that's not something you have to worry about," Briggs said. "He's basically living like a bum, as if he is in some eternal self-loathing or something along those lines."

"So what's important about him?" Eric kept pushing questions.

"Well Franz Westergard has told us that the brother, Hans Westergard, is a qualified Rear Admiral and has the sailing experience, and that we should give him a chance should the time come. Now at this point, I'd rather consider that than any of the naval officer graduates." Briggs said.

"So what are my orders, sir?" Eric straightened himself out.

"I want you to find him and bring him to me," Briggs said. "Should he accept the offer, I want you to accompany him as his advisor, and ensure that he receives all the proper care that a rear admiral gets. If so, there's a chance that I can promote you to captain of his ship."

"C…c…captain of the Admiral's Flagship?" Eric was taken back in shock. He couldn't believe that the Vice Admiral is considering raising his rank so much, and not just to captain a regular sixth rate, but the Admirals Flagship.

"Yes, of course, captain of the Admiral's Flagship," Briggs repeated, and waved his hand in the direction of the door. "Now be off and find him."

"Umm sir," Eric had yet another question. "How am I going to find him?"

"Well that's not my problem," Briggs said, scribbling more words. "You're the one being promoted, so do what you must."

"Uhm, sir!" Eric said, saluting at attention and turning to briskly walk out.


	6. Chapter 6: An Unexpected Meeting

On a bed, frizzled with multiple blankets and pillows, lay the red haired Hans, his cheek pressed up to his pillow and his horribly scarred back exposed. He snored heavily; bottles of alcoholic beverages lay on the floor, one of the bottles half empty in his hand. It was a nasty habit that he picked up two months back, using most of the money that his brother stole from his family's life savings to give to him in order to make a living, most of it being spent on the demon drink.

A young girl off to the side of the room had just finished dressing herself, straightened her thin dress out and turned her head to the sleeping Prince, taking sight of his backside, soft and bumpy marks where skin had grown over the wounds.

Slowly and silently, she tip-toed over to lay her fingers on the scar lining. Suddenly, Hans had dropped the beer bottle from his hand and grasped at her wrist, making her jump a little in shock. His eyes, however, were still closed as though he was asleep, and his lips still parted as though to snore.

"You have my money…" he groggily said. "Last thing I need is your sympathy." His grip on her loosened and he pushed her hand back to her. The girl only looked at him nervously, watching him fall back asleep. She backed away slowly, grabbing her bag off of a table and walking out. Hans wanted to roll back over on his back, but his new skin had become sensitive, and it was uncomfortable to put a solid to it, despite the fact that it's been healed. Last night with the young girl was different though; pleasure overtook him, so he didn't focus on the sensitivity of his skin.

* * *

Usually when riding around the coastal city, Eric would be driven by a carriage driver. In this case, he was carrying out orders from Vice Admiral Briggs; official Danish Naval Business. He was accompanied by his man-servant, Grimsby, the same old white-hair, ponytailed man that handed him the pigeons letter. He was dressed in a black Gentleman's coat, in his mouth a smoking pipe. So Grimsby would be the one to drive their carriage.

"Hold up, I think this is it," Eric said, lifting his hand in front of Grimsby's face. The old servant pulled the reins, stopping the horses in place. The building that Eric looked at was well put together; tanned concrete, red roof top, windows with dark brown shutters to each side of them.

The two had to use some contacts, some sources, to figure out the location of the banished Prince. They first got some tips from guys in local bars, then to neighbors. Eventually, they decided to take an easy route and ask groups of tax collectors, who were able to provide some information that they needed considering they said they collected tax from Hans a few times.

Grimsby secured the reins while Eric stepped off of the carriage and made his way towards the opening, where a woman with a thin dress came out of it.

"Excuse me," Eric called to her. The woman stopped in her tracks and turned her head towards the Naval Officer. "Do you know if Hans Westergard lives here?" The girl looked up at one of the windows higher up, then back down.

"I know a Hans," She pointed up to the same window she just looked at. "If that's the man you're looking for, then I'm afraid he'd be too stubborn for the likes of you two." Grim and Eric looked at each other then back at the girl.

"Thank you," Eric acknowledged, he and Grim striding past her into the building.

* * *

A sharp rap came at the wooden door to his room. Hans made a loud snort and his eyes shot open. Quickly he sat up on the edge of his bed and rubbed his eyes, blinking to adjust them to the morning light. He believed that it was the prostitute that just left, so he didn't bother dressing and simply went to the door.

"You have my money," he called out, opening the door completely. "What more do you-" Two men, a black haired naval officer and an old gentleman stood there. All their eyes went wide in surprise, the two to see that the banished Prince answered the door in full nude, and Hans to see that it wasn't the Prostitute. He just embarrassed himself greatly, as if it wasn't even possible to do any more. Hans immediately swung the door partially closed and hid behind it to cover his crotch.

"Uhh…did we catch you at a bad time?" Eric stuttered.

"Oh…uh…no, let me get something on," Hans lightly shit the door and cringed to himself. He waited a moment to lighten up, before dashing around the room to find underwear and a robe. Once he donned them, Hans made his way back to the door and opened it again. Eric immediately asked him…

"Are you Hans Westergard?"

"Yeah, who are you?" Eric raised his brows.

"Well…I'm Senior Chief Petty Officer Eric Milbourne," Eric said, putting his fingers on his chest. He then shifted his hand to the gentleman's direction. "This is Grimsby." The old man with the pipe gestured in greeting. Hans still looked at the two questioningly. "We're from the Royal Danish Navy." Eric could tell by Hans' face that he had more questions coming. "I'm sorry to bother you, but we were given strict orders from Vice Admiral Briggs to bring you to him."

"What does the Vice Admiral of the Danish Navy want with me?" Hans questioned. Eric thought of one thing, and that it would be better to explain the situation himself. He could tell that the Prince wouldn't move if he didn't know what he was getting himself into.

"Look, I know you have a lot of questions," Eric said. "But may we come in, so we can explain the situation clearly?" Hans gulped down, thinking for a second while looking back into his messy room.

"Umm…yeah, sure, come right in," Hans opened the door wide, stepping out of Eric and Grimsby's way. "Uh, sorry about the mess…I never really bothered keeping my place clean."

Eric looked around, really the only mess that occupied the area was the beer bottles on the floor, along with some disorganized newspapers.

_The Vice Admiral was right, he really is living like a bum. _

Hans pulled up and brushed off a couple of comfortable living chairs placed next to his coffee table.

"Here, have a seat," he offered to them. The two nodded and accepted, sitting down; Eric crossing his leg over the other. Hans went over to his mini bar on one of his dressers, and began mixing an elegant alcoholic drink together. "Would you two care for a drink?"

"Uhh, no thanks, I don't drink at eight in the morning," Eric said, chuckling. "But I do smoke pipes, do you mind if I do?" Hans shook his head.

"Not at all," he answered, before coming over and taking his seat on the opposite side of the coffee table.

"Grim," Eric held his hand out. Grimsby took out a spare pipe of his and placed it in Eric's hands. Eric put it in his mouth, while Grim lit a match and stuck it inside the hole. Eric then grabbed control of it, huffing some smoke and blowing it out.

After Hans took a sip of his drink, he set it down onto the coffee table.

"So what's this about your Vice Admiral needing me? Eric blew out some more smoke.

"Well," Eric said. "You probably haven't heard, but trade ships go missing in the range of the Kydonian Islands; and just recently, we dispatched a squadron under Rear Admiral Gates to deal with whatever problem on that island…" Eric took another puff, "He hasn't come back."

"Is it the Kydonian Pirates?" Hans asked.

"We believe it is, how do you know?" Hans took a sip of his drink.

"I was on a ship when we were traveling through there," Hans said. "We came into contact with several of their ships and were able to fight some of them off."

"How many ships were with you?"

"Five, Admiral's Flagship, a first rate, two fourth Rates, and a sixth Rate."

"How long ago was that?" Hans swished his drink around, looking at the bottom of the glass.

"When I was in my early teenage years," He answered. "My brother was and still is an Admiral, so I served on his ship at the time."

"So you have experience with the Navy?" Eric already knew that answer, since he was given the information necessary.

"Yes, of course, I've been around the world; Corona, The Highlands, Weselton, Arendelle…" Eric noticed that Hans trailed off at the name Arendelle, and that he looked to the ground wide eyed. He knew of what happened, but tried to keep it from escaping out of his mouth.

"So you attended Naval Officer School, and came out as a Rear Admiral?" Hans looked up at him.

"How do you know that?" He questioned.

"Your Brother, the Rear Admiral you were talking about, came to the Vice Admiral a while back and explained everything, who you were, why you were here…"

"Wait…so you and the…know about my escapade with Arendelle?" Hans looked nervous, gulping down some air and blinking.

"Uhh…well yes," Eric replied, not wanting to press that matter. Hans was starting to shift in his seat, but Eric lifted his hand to calm him down. "But, please remain calm."

"Is your Vice Admiral really suggesting that I be recruited as a Rear Admiral into the Danish Navy?" Eric was surprised, he hadn't said anything about him being recruited into the navy yet, but it's like Hans knew where this conversation was going.

"Yes, I'm sure he is…"

"I'm not sure if he can trust me enough to do so," Hans said.

"Well I know Vice Admiral Briggs personally, and he doesn't care much for trust or a person's past misdeeds to begin with," Hans looked at him questioningly. "He said that he knows of your sailing experience, and the fact that you graduated the youngest Rear Admiral at the top of the class. Those were all things your Brother said to him. So I'm pretty sure that that is all he cares for." In the moment, Eric thought about Hans. It seems that he cares too much about what other people think of him in the sense of trust. It sounds like he believes people shouldn't trust him; that he couldn't trust himself. Hans scoffed.

"I'm sorry, but people can't trust me to take control of a fleet," Eric knew that his rank was on the line, he had to keep pushing it.

"Listen, Hans, stop spilling your Spaghetti," Eric said, doing his best not to laugh at the statement. Hans just sat there confused at what he just said. "Like I said, the Admiral doesn't care about him not trusting you or not; all he cares about is your naval experience and your impressive naval class standing. Now he needs someone like you, and he'd rather choose someone like you than a fresh naval graduate. That 'escapade' that happened in Arendelle, only proves that you are willing to make bold actions, and that's exactly what the Admiral needs, people who are willing to be bold." Eric then calmed himself down. "If you really judge yourself by what you did in Arendelle, then you would be right at home with the Danish Navy."

Hans looked down in silence, taking in what the Senior Chief had said.

"My brother Franz said that I should do this?"

"He did." After moments of sitting in more silence, Hans finally began to slowly nod.

"…Okay Milbourne, I'm convinced," Hans took another sip of his drink. "Take me to the Vice Admiral."


	7. Chapter 7: Hurt Still Lingers

Elsa stepped up to the main deck, the same dress she had been wearing for the past week, but this time her head had a hood over it. She wasn't on her royal ship; Prince Franz had offered the fleet he commanded as an escort.

It was near dark, the only light came from the tip of the sun over the horizon; mix that in with the calm of the waters and the ships sailing on it, and its more calming than ever.

She made her way up next to the Rear Admiral that stood just out of earshot of the Helmsman. Franz heard her footsteps behind him, and then turned his head slightly to acknowledge her presence.

"Good Evening, your Majesty," he said, bowing slightly.

"Prince Franz," Elsa replied. She noted his height and his age complexion. He was of course, way taller than she was, Elsa stood only at five foot seven, while Franz at six foot three. She also heard that he was around twenty eight years old, or thirty; she couldn't remember. "You know, you didn't need to provide an escort with your entire fleet."

"It isn't an entire fleet, my Queen," Franz said, his hands behind his back. "It's only my squadron. Besides, these seas are becoming more dangerous by the day."

"How so?" Elsa asked, tipping her head to catch a glimpse of his face.

"The Bribery Pirates around the Kydonian Islands are causing quite a stir," he said.

"But aren't the Kydonian Islands hundreds of miles out in the middle of the sea?"

"Yes," Franz answered. "But no length could ever stop them. I learned that about six years ago, the first time my squadron came in contact with them."

"What were they like?" Franz turned to her with a confused look on his face, trying not to offend.

"They're Pirates, my Queen," A simple answer. Elsa had to think about it, but it quickly donned on her what it was; they were barbaric and brutal. Now she understands his concern.

She noticed that Franz immediately went back to his silence, his hands behind his back as he looked out at the calm waters and moonlight. Elsa could feel it in his presence, there was an uneasiness in him.

"Prince Franz," Elsa tried to hail him.

"I'm on duty, your Majesty," he said. "I go by Admiral Westergard."

"Right, Admiral Westergard," she corrected herself, a slight annoyance in her voice. Her mood had shifted back to what she was feeling for what she was going to ask him next. "At the dinner your family and I had together, I noticed you were distraught at how they were speaking of Prince Hans…"

"He's not a Prince anymore," The Admiral again corrected her; obviously a habit that he probably had in only her presence. Elsa felt annoyed again, but when he continued to speak she lightened up. "Yes I was."

"That explains why you got up and left right in the middle of it?" The Admiral drooped his head, silence surrounding him for a moment.

"He was more than my brother, Queen Elsa," he said, his voice lowered. "Throughout his whole childhood, he knew nothing but anger and pain, and I wanted to help him through it." Franz slowly paced to the edge and leaned himself over it. "He was treated horribly by my other brothers…"

"Is that why he did what he did?" Elsa asked, coming up next to him. "Because he wanted to escape from them?"

"I don't know…" Franz said, shaking his head. "When I heard of what he did…I couldn't believe it."

"You never suspected he was capable of something like that?"

"No…I know him…my family doesn't," Franz looked to Queen Elsa.

"I'm trying to understand why," she said. She knew of how Hans approached it. Even though he tried to dispatch her; after she had fled in cowardice to an Ice tower, he stayed behind to help the citizens. Probably his sick way of getting people's support, but the idea still remained. He probably would've been a kind compassionate ruler…the thought was strange in Elsa's mind; she and Anna viewed his true self, but another voice said that he was only doing it out of desperation. It was all so frustrating, just thinking of him and what he really was.

But she promised herself that she would just let it go…but it was nearly hard for her. His brother was saying something different, and she could sense it in him, he was being honest. He really doesn't know why he did what he did, and that he really loves him. Of course he could be lying; he was the same blood as Prince Hans, no doubt that lying so well could be a talent born in only Westergard blood; but that was a stretch.

"Queen Elsa," Franz turned to her, getting closer. "Please, you have to understand!" It was like he was begging; Queen Elsa growing a questioning look on her face. "Hans isn't really like this…at least, not anymore-not that I know of…" He had taken her hand and squeezed it between his two. Elsa felt scared, threatened, worried; different emotions at once. He really was scared for his little brother…"

"Admiral…I'm not sure what to say to you…" She said. "I've seen him do what he did…it was terrifying, just how evil he can be…"

"He's not evil, your Majesty!" He interrupted.

"I don't know," Elsa softly said. "I've seen him…but you weren't there."

"But you don't know him like I do…" Franz pressed on. Elsa was beginning to feel different, annoyed? Conflicted? He clearly was being honest, but Elsa couldn't tear her thoughts away from Hans. She wanted to believe Franz, and she knew he wasn't lying; you can never really lie about something you don't know about. So she said what she had thought about.

"He was an excellent liar, Franz; he must've deceived you." Franz looked up at her, horrified.

"Queen Elsa…" he let out. "I know him…he would never do that!"

"I've seen him, Franz, I know what he's capable of…he had to have deceived you," Franz went into complete silence, trying to force out words, but he couldn't. He stepped away from her, feeling utterly defeated.

"Queen Elsa, I know of your rule," Franz said, his head drooped low. "Your people think you are kind and compassionate. I hope that one day you find it in your heart to cast aside the past, and forgive him for what he's done…"

Elsa had felt even more conflicted…she wanted to believe so hard that she can be forgiving, and that she can show compassion. But this was Hans he was talking about; surely, she would never wish death upon him, she wasn't like that. She's glad that he's been spared; she can't stand people dying in the name of justice. But she was convinced, for the sake of her sister and her country that Hans was incapable of being forgiven. She could never forgive him, and even with all her moral standings, she still wishes he can vanish, so the thought of him could be erased from her mind; so she could find peace.

But as long as she knew he still existed out there in this world…she could never find peace. All her thoughts rallied around him, and the ideas of him being deceiving to his brother, or being desperate to escape from his family, from torment.

Hans wasn't even close, and he was still hurting her.


	8. Chapter 8: RDS Anna's Revenge

Hans stood at the center of the room, stiffened and a little more awkward than Eric was who was in the corner next to the door. Vice Admiral Briggs had his eyes squinted at a pile of papers, sitting down and shuffling through them.

"Mhm," he would let out every now and then. Hans would look down at him every now and then, but would shoot his eyes back up to the Danish flag. "Mhm," he looked over to Eric, who gave him a thumb up and a light smile. "Well, Mister Westergard," Briggs said, throwing the papers to the side. "I would just like to get down to business…I want you in my Navy."

"I understand that sir," Hans said, hands behind his back.

"Now I understand that you have some experience with these pirates in the Kydonian Islands, is that right?"

"Yes sir, but that was a while ago," Hans replied.

"Well I'll take whatever I can get," Briggs said. "Now I also understand that you have some troubles with…" Briggs inhaled through his nose. "Royalty." Hans remained silent, the old Admiral only chuckling. "Oh it's nothing to be ashamed of; you're not the first and you certainly won't be the last."

_Very reassuring. _

"You know, Westergard…" Briggs said getting up and moving himself closer to him. "I like your style, Daneland needs more commanders like you. Willing to take bold risks…" Briggs looked him in the eye, seeing that Hans was becoming uncomfortable with him. Instead, Briggs decided to change the subject. "Please, follow me," he curled his finger, and walked out through the door; Hans and Eric hesitantly followed.

After walking through dark corridors and past unfamiliar rooms, they arrived to a larger sanctuary with a table and plastic toys in the middle. On it was the map of the sea, the Sea of Embers as it was called in the known world; the large body of water that separated the eastern and western continents. Of course a slender piece on the shoreline of the western continent was Daneland, seeing as it was a coastal nation. North and west of them were thick forests and green plains, along with vast mountain ranges in the far front. Somewhere to the north, was a more majestic land of hills and forests; a place called the Highlands, populated by Kelt wearing barbarians, yet regal and mannered queens. They existed as independent settlements, generally warring with each other in a game for power.

Hans remembered a while ago, Daneland's armies, before muskets were even around, were forced to fight against one of their princes who had attempted to conquer both the Highlands and parts of the Western continent. They would have lost to, but their monarchial government's instability had forced the kingdom to ruins, thus the Prince in the Highlands had beaten himself.

Further on north was another body of water, rocky islands inhabiting the area. For the most part, a lot of it was uncharted, few explorers have returned from there. It was considered Viking lands; some reports even say that there were dragons around that area, but nothing was ever confirmed. Of course, Hans didn't believe such non-sense.

The southwest of the western continent stood the deserts of Agrabah, just over a mountain range separating the cool grasslands and the hot dunes. Hans heard many riches and treasures were hidden there, but it was a dangerous task to try and find them. Maybe that's what Hans should have done, run away to the distant desert…no, he likes the sunny beach; now that he sees it, it's much better than that god forsaken Fjord.

Of course there was the islands in the middle of the sea, the Kydonian islands to be more specific, were the islands marked in red on the map. They were tropical, meaning palm trees, coconuts, monkeys, etc. Then there were other islands; most were fought over by major countries for imperialistic control, mainly because of the rich resources and fertile lands there.

Going across to the eastern continent, Corona stood as the main country of control. South of them was Weaseltown…oh, Weselton, and Arendelle, smaller countries. Then there was the southern continent, mainly consisting of the mainland of the Southern Isles and all the land it controlled from its previous medieval conquests.

Vice Admiral Briggs cleaned off the map and replaced it with a rather plain piece of map, probably the middle of the sea somewhere; logistics markers and lines taking up the page. He set down a couple of blue and red ship shaped plastic toys, each representing a different fleet.

"Now," Briggs said. "We have your squadron here, and the enemy's squadron here." He pointed to each individual cluster. "Now the enemy has caught sight of your fleet from the south east and is moving to intercept. What would you have your ships do?"

Hans thought off of what he learned in naval officer's school, and he was taught to choose his fights.

"I wouldn't turn to engage them," he said. Eric looked at him questioningly from the side. "I would begin a tactical retreat…give the enemy a chance to disengage." Briggs nodded his head.

"Good idea, Westergard," he said. "But in the case that you are ordered to attack, what would you do?"

"The best option is to break my fleet off into two, giving the chance to outflank and surround the enemy," Hans said. "If the enemy is surrounded, they won't have much room to make adjustments. Their escape routes will be blocked off; their moves will be cramped, and they will possibly run destroy each other in their paths, a lot like cattle in enclosed land." Hans stared down at the map as he was moving the pieces around so that the red was surrounded by the blue, and the red pieces were cramped together so that they were falling over.

"Hmm…" Briggs rubbed his chin. "I like your representation of it…_like cattle._"

"The strategy isn't trusted to play out so easily all the time though," Hans said. "It requires quick timing and fast precision; but if the ships are in position, then it will work most definitely."

* * *

Both Hans and Briggs had accepted each other's offer; Hans Westergard, former Prince of the Southern Isles, was now Admiral Westergard, rear Admiral of the Danish navy fourth squadron. Eric was assigned to take Hans to the shipping yard where the new ships were being constructed, and that was what he did.

The wheels thudded against the wooden planks of the dock, and the horses had whinnied to a halt. Bells rang off in the distance, waves crashed, and hammers struck down on nails; Hans couldn't believe his eyes.

In his vision, the ship that was considered to be his; of course, it was still missing plenty of pieces, but Hans had seen ships like it before. He stepped off of the carriage, his eyes still gazing at the wonder. Eric came along side of him.

"What do you think, Admiral?" he asked a smile on his face. "I know it still needs to be finished, but is it everything it should be?" Hans remained quiet, his mouth hung open. "You know…The Fleet Admiral is allowed to name the ship." Hans looked over to him.

"You mean I can name this thing?" he asked. Eric nodded as Hans looked back at it in contemplation.

He thought of his past, things he had done, places he had gone. He figured if it was going to be his ship, then its name should have a meaning. People he had met…things he had done…things he wished he could do…

Then he thought of his little escapade in Arendelle…hell, he didn't want to keep thinking about it. But thanks to Briggs, he now couldn't get his mind off of it, and how just by being the bad guy, he automatically becomes what Daneland needs. What the hell kind of whacko place is this? Now they're naming sociopaths as Admirals. Definitely, Hans called himself a sociopath, he feels as though he couldn't feel, and therefore does what he does because he thinks he can get through it. Any normal human being would know never to trust him…but Briggs was something else. He didn't care about honesty, honor, or respect; he chose Hans for his bold attempts in the past, and asks only for his loyalty, which Hans had agreed to.

I mean, what was there to over throw here in Daneland? Hans could never do it, not a second time, and he and Briggs both knew full well it wouldn't happen again. Briggs understands, he doesn't let personal feelings get in the way of what should be done. Hans wishes he could be like that.

But thinking of his escapade in Arendelle, which Briggs was so fond of him for, he thought of the innocent girl that he nearly destroyed. Little Anna, little naïve Anna of Arendelle. She punched him off of a ship once, embarrassing as it was, it was her revenge for all that he did; but he knew it wasn't enough for her. He imagined the terrible things she would do to him should she ever see him again…what an interesting thought…how the sweet young girl has bloody murder in her heart. The thought of her personally torturing him, red eagle, flogging, crucifixion; he imagined her cute laugh while she would carry out her deed.

Oh that thought…though horrible for him, it brought a smile to his face. He truly felt like he deserved every torture given to him, and who better than by Princess Anna?

Then he thought of his situation right now, looking out at a ship that he's to command, the fact that he is being pulled back into the real world instead of just sitting around and doing nothing. He laughs, it was torture…just by existing…he knew that ever since birth.

Oh, how Anna would love to take pleasure in his misery…then it dawned on him; the perfect name.

"Anna's Revenge…" Hans uttered out. Eric caught his murmer in his ear and leaned in.

"What was that?" Eric asked. Hans kept looking up at the ship.

"The ship name…" He said, and then repeated, "Anna's Revenge."

"Anna's Revenge?"

"The ship name…yes," Hans whispered. "It's perfect."

"So Anna's Revenge, huh?" Eric said. "Quite a peculiar name, but good nonetheless."

_Royal Danish Ship, Admiral's Flagship, RDS Anna's Revenge, named after Princess Anna of Arendelle, the same girl that he nearly killed about some time ago. It felt so right…the name; to have that constant reminder._

* * *

**Well guys, I'm sorry. I'm just not very motivated to write, at least not in the moment. I'm sure the later chapters will be better, and things will get interesting, especially when the smutty stuff comes along…never mind. **

**You and I both know that I like explicitly written sex scenes, and in my opinion, the Helsa Iceburns fanfiction community is really lacking some of that good stuff. Unless it's The Thaw of course, pretty smutty story. **

**The problem is having to find a way to write it without insulting Elsa of Hans' characters, which I seemed to unwillingly notice a lot. Not saying the stories are bad, I just have to really try and work my way around the characters losing their original concept…but that's how fanfictions are I guess. That's not impossible though, personally I'm gonna try and make them relate…I guess. **

**I'm gonna try and make it complicated instead of all happily ever after, in a way that even if they do enjoy each other's pleasure, they aren't happy together…ahhh we'll see what happens. **


	9. Chapter 9: Spring Arrives

The Snow Queen had returned to Arendelle, seeing that it was all intact. Another good job done by Kai and Anna of course; not to mention the court of advisors. Trade still ran strong, the economy was booming, happiness overcame its entirety. People felt even safer knowing that their queen has returned, and that she can take over for now.

The spring has come; trees come alive with the color green, the birds sing, and the grass grows once more. Elsa personally enjoyed the dead of winter, the freezing sensation against her skin, the only thing she prefers to be touched by. But she knows she must come to enjoy the wrap of spring warmth around her in due time, to adapt to the natural changes of the seasons. Oh how she wished she can erupt an eternal winter for her own selfish needs; but she finds it in her good heart to not do so for the sake of her people. Her subjects were children of the spring, and adapters of the changing seasons; should an unnatural change come, misery would stand in their place.

But she thought on it, as tempting as it was. Every day she walks a thin line, one side the good for her outer form, and inside for her inner form consisting of her dark side, one that nearly over took her if it wasn't for…_Hans._

How evil he was, yet he kept her from becoming what he was.

_Don't be the monster they think you are. _

It was immoral, to think so fondly of someone in such depravity. But she couldn't stop thinking about his lost presence. She desired him to disappear but she knew in the back of her head that she was grateful for him, how insane that sounds. She never showed it though, externally she reveals herself to be grateful he is gone, but internally she is glad of his existence.

Arendelle was all so perfect now as she looks out from the balcony to a green court yard, where her eyes rested upon the image of Kristoff and Anna lying out under a single tree, enjoying the calm shade; the swans in the pond, the birds nest up in the tree. She can live peacefully knowing she has nothing left to hide, and that her little sister has found someone to be with for the time being.

It was all so perfect now; a corner of the world in happiness and peace, and it was all thanks to _him_. How you may ask? She imagines what life would be like if those events on the days of her coronation hadn't happened, if he hadn't come along. She would still be hiding her secret, living in the fear that her powers might hurt someone, or someone may find out. Anna would have never met Kristoff, and the people wouldn't have respected her as they respect her now.

In a sense, she was _glad _that Hans had tried to decapitate her; if it wasn't for him, the whole of Arendelle would never have learned the value of friendship and peace. Every night, she feels like she must thank him for making it possible, as crazy as it was, but it only made sense in her mind.

Oh what was she thinking? It was crazy talk, but she liked crazy…

But other thoughts crossed her mind; what is to be of Kristoff and Anna? It was spring now, surely the ice was to have thawed, leaving the _Ice Master and Deliverer _temporarily unemployed.

Heh, _Ice Master and Deliverer…_what a load of fuck. It was a bullshit job of course; Elsa wanted to reward him with something for being one of the "saviors" of Arendelle, so she made something up, hoping that it could relate to his talents and experiences, and also gives him a reason to keep coming back to Arendelle besides to see Anna.

How empowering that was? To be able to create jobs with the snap of her fingers, even if it was just that one time. She didn't even know what role the _Ice Master _would have to play in Arendelle's economy besides bringing in the most ice. Was he running his own business now? Did he control all of the ice trade in the region? Whatever it was, she hoped that the money the government pays him is worth it.

What is Anna going to do with him? Marry him? Elsa hoped not, at least not yet. She wants their relationship to develop first before she allows any marriage.

Someone behind her cleared his throats, coughing and straightened his suit out. Elsa turned to see Kai standing with a scroll in hand.

"Your Majesty," he lightly bowed, reaching out the scroll for her to take. Elsa looked at the scroll questioningly before taking it and unraveling it.

On it was a letter, a note, a formal invitation from Corona. The King and Queen had urgent matter that they wished to discuss with Queen Elsa in person, about the weakened trade routes from Daneland. Well it was an urgent matter, nothing from Daneland has arrived for a while…maybe it was those Kydonian pirates.

Elsa took a long thought on what her next plan of action should be; take the trip to Corona? Or stay here with her subjects. She remembered what Prince Franz had said, how the waters are becoming more dangerous by the day. She hoped to god that their navy would lend a hand to help clean up the problem, or if Daneland was to come in and take over.

Arendelle, as pathetic as it sounds, didn't have a very formidable offensive military, rather just a defensive guard. But at the same time, they were the youngest country in the known world; so it was no surprise.

But Elsa…she can do something about it. She was quite confident in her abilities as a leader and ruler, there was no doubt that she can begin a military syllabus…with some help of course.

But to the matter at hand…go to Corona, or stay…

"Kai," she said, rolling the scroll back up. Kai's eyebrows went up, tipping his head back in acknowledgement. "Ready the ship, we'll leave tomorrow for Corona."

* * *

**If you actually read the Author's notes, then I highly encourage you respond to this one…**

**I've been thinking, I read a story a short while ago called 'heroes among a thousand' by Nerumi H. If you have the chance, go and check it out, please. It got me thinking about a new concept of mine…I imagined it would take place around WWI but it was never actually implied. **

**It makes me want to do another Helsa story…the more, the merrier. It lets go of the Frozen canon with her all queenly and princessy and shit…brings it into the real world. With their names, I imagine their characters originate from northeastern and middle Europe. **

**I want to do a story that is based around the historical setting of The Great War of 1914-18 (aka World War 1), taking place in Germany; all the characters (Elsa, Anna, Hans, Kristoff, Rapunzel, Eugene) are German. I mean it doesn't make sense to have characters named Hans and Kristoff as Brits (no offense) **

**The story will go into detail about life on the battlefront and the Homefront, and the relationships between the characters through their letter communication and what-not. Of course, knowing me it's going to be Helsa centered, but the relationship would have to develop through their distance communication as I have to ensure that it doesn't necessarily break their characters completely. **

**What do you guys think? **


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